Excitement sizzled in Georgianna’s veins. “You could come with me, Lizzie.”
“Willingly enter the scoundrel’s debauched den? My dear Georgianna, even with my whimsical and oftentimes reckless heart, I am notthatfoolish.”
Laughing at her sister’s tartness, she tried to ignore the sudden erratic pounding of her heart, reminding herself that she had nothing to fear, especially not a reputation that might not be true.
How truly wicked could one gentleman be?
Simply rubbish, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with me.
Yet somehow, Georgianna could not dismiss the nerves that seemed to slowly unspool inside her belly.
Chapter Two
This is what it is like living a life of wealth, power, and luxury, Georgianna mused from the section of the large deck where she hovered, in the shadows and away from probing eyes. Or more like hid, since she should be below decks in the large and very lush galley area with the rest of the kitchen staff.
Despite the voice of pragmatism that usually directed her course, somehow she had not been able to deny herself a quick peek above deck. The yacht had taken her breath with its beauty and size when she boarded a few hours earlier in Dover. Mr. Burnell had proudly informed her the ship was a cutter and had been built a few years previously on the River Clyde to order by the by the Earl of Stannis.
Georgianna was stunned by its magnificence. The sailors wore an especially designed livery in navy and gray and had carried her luggage on board and shown her to a small but tastefully decorated cabin. The sailing boat had a central mast but had several sails which would enable the boat to tack more closely to the shore for safety and allow it to make use of the slightest winds.
“Oh, I must hurry and return to the galley,” she said with a wistful sigh, not wanting to leave. The night was simply decadent.
Surely, she had been standing here for at least fifteen minutes, watching the whirl and glitter of thehaut tonas they had fun aboard the luxurious yacht as it bobbed on the churning waters. The itinerary of the trip had not been something that the ship’s crew had deigned to inform her of, but it seemed that they had sailed down the channel and the distant lights were on the coast of Guernsey. They stopped briefly there, and a small boat had rowed out and delivered various interesting ingredients, among them lobsters, langoustine, cheeses, and many other foods that Georgianna had never had the opportunity to cook with before and now greatly anticipated the challenge of preparing some exquisite meals.
She had swiftly directed her staff to tidy everything away and changed the evening menu to include the most perishable items. Several crates of wine also came on board, but the champagne had been carefully placed in a specially padded contraption and lowered into the chilly water of La Manche or, as she knew it, the English Channel. There was no ice room in the yacht, and so making ices and sorbets would not be possible.
“Oh!” she heard from below her. “Lord Ferguson, do put me down!”
The squeal had her tipping onto her toes to watch a gentleman holding a lady off her feet…and good heavens, the man was kissing her mouth rather passionately. Such a wanton display seemed to be the norm here, though, for no one appeared shocked.
Georgianna observed that almost all the ladies were dressed scandalously with a few in costumes, yet they were also elegant and so graceful. Some wore elaborate wigs and filigree masks while others were not afraid to reveal their identities as they basked in the lush ambience and luxury of the boat. The air was brisk, the wind chilled; however, the ladies and gentlemen laughed, danced, and twirled as if they were ensconced in a London ballroom.
Roped lantern lights hung suspended about their heads, and a string quartet played the waltz or some version of it that allowed the guests to dance outrageously close. No one seemed bothered by the slight motion of the ship as it cut through a surprisingly calm sea. The dancers’ bodies swayed together with no respectable distance between them, and a few even recklessly pressed their mouths together. Seeing such eager wantonness did not repulse Georgianna but sent a swirl of longing in her belly and sizzling through her veins.
Once I make a choice to venture down a particular path, I cannot long for the other…
Wrenching her gaze from the dancing belles, she tracked the footmen as they deftly wended their way through the crowd with silver serving platters of her delicacies for the earl’s guests’ consumption. She watched their expression as they bit into a tart, lobster patties, her spice rum cake, or the shrimp canapés. Lashes fluttered, moans whispered in the air, and food took on the consequence of a sensual delight.
She bit into her lower lip to stop the laugh of happiness from coming out. Their enjoyment and surprise made her want to dance and hug herself, and a few nearby whispering “compliments to the chef” sent her heart soaring.
Georgianna had to find a way to capitalize on tonight’s success. A peculiar feeling prickled along her skin, as if someone stared at her. Silly, of course, since one could notfeela gaze. She scanned the crowd, stilling on a gentleman standing by the bow spit of the yacht, the wind at his back, staring…ather.
Her heart lurched. Georgianna held herself still under that unswerving regard. There was no doubt it was she he pinned with that hawk-like stare. Tall, with broad shoulders, he was most outrageously staring.
In the light of the lanterns, she could see his hair, which was ruffled by the slight breeze, was a dark blond and his face classically handsome. However, his most devastating features were his piercing emerald green eyes. Perhaps if he hadn’t seemed so enigmatic garbed in black trousers and jacket with only a silver waistcoat to soften the dark image, perhaps if he hadn’t watched her too intently and uncaring of its scandalous nature, she could have successfully wrenched her attention away. The stranger drew deep on his cheroot, slowly releasing the smoke, studying her with an air of jaded insouciance.
Why do you stare?
A small, questioning frown split those dark, winged brows, and then his lips quirked. A very small smile, but it was laced with provocative carnality. For a moment, she lost her breath at the wild dip in her belly. Georgianna drew back more into the shadows, grateful that only a crescent moon hung in the velveted night sky, yet this stranger’s stare did not falter. His gaze slid across her features, probing and curious. Then wandered down to take in the curves of her figure, which she had taken so much trouble to suppress. Her plain and all-covering gown did much to discourage male attention, but it could not disguise her tiny waist or lessen the prominence of her breasts.
His gaze lingered, and she gripped her clasped hands until her fingers ached.
Oh, do look away, Georgianna!
A lady clad in a vibrant red gown with a revealing decolletage flung herself into the gentleman’s arms. He slowly shifted his regard to her, and Georgianna let out a slow breath. Feeling as if she had been unchained, she turned and fled the upper deck, down the stairs, and to the galley where she was meant to exist.
A young footman stomped down the stairs, irritation lining his expression. “There has been a request for food not on the menu. From my lord’s lady herself and to be delivered to the master cabin post haste.”
This was said with a bit of irritation, as the mistress of the earl had developed a reputation with the staff of being almost impossible to please.
